


Can't

by kscribbles



Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 15:09:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kscribbles/pseuds/kscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Peter/Charley - Several years later. I'd like to see Peter and Charley crossing paths several years down the road...no one's been turned into a vampire or anything like that, just Charley coming back to Vegas to visit after losing touch and looking up his old <s>fuckbuddy</s> pal for some reminiscing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lj community FrightNight2011's kinkmeme: http://frightnight2011.livejournal.com/718.html

It’d been five years since he’d first walked into this theater during a rehearsal. Four since that crazy year he and Peter had spent either in bed, or killing vampires, or discussing magic, history, and ancient texts, sparking Charley’s incredible thirst for knowledge. He’d gone away to school back east, and almost never looked back. There was only once, a Christmas break soon after he’d turned 21. His memories of that week were still a bit hazy. It’d been two and a half years since he’d set foot in this city.

But just like it had five years ago, Peter’s commanding voice yelled out “STOP!” soon after Charley entered the theater.

“Charley fucking Brewster,” Peter said spying him in the stalls. He smiled as brightly as Charley had ever seen before, holding out a hand and hauling him on stage.

The performers and the crew and the noise all seemed to disappear as he returned Peter’s smile. Same old Peter. All leather and artifice for the stage, that same stare he couldn’t look away from. “You could see me with all those lights?”

“Charley,” he said, his voice low and almost gravelly, “I could fucking _feel_ you.” Charley flushed. After all this time, Peter still had that effect on him, in seconds. “Plus, yeah, also, you were in that one spot I can see from stage.” Peter threw his arms around him and hugged him tightly. And then, seeming to remember all the people around them, quickly pulled away and addressed his underlings. “Take five people. Take…” he glanced around, “…an hour. At least.”

He then dragged Charley backstage, away from prying eyes, and kissed him hard on the mouth. Charley eagerly kissed back, instantly taken back to those old days, but the fake facial hair began to tickle and ruined the moment. Charley pulled back laughing. “That’s still weird.”

Peter ripped off the offending adhesives. “You didn’t tell me you were coming,” he said seriously.

“I wasn’t sure I was,” Charley answered. He really didn’t have a lot of time, he almost hadn’t come at all.

Peter eyed him curiously. “You weren’t s—?” He cut himself off. “Vamps giving you any trouble?”

“All quiet on the eastern front.”

Peter nodded and then kissed him again, more urgently, more demanding. A kiss years overdue. Charley soon found himself backed up against a wall, long, talented fingers in his hair, and an erection pressed against his hip. God it’d been a long, long time. How had he thought he could have come to town and _not_ have seen Peter?

Peter broke the kiss to whisper hotly, “Come upstairs.” There was no question as to what _for_. Especially with Peter trailing fiery kisses along his neck and throat.

Charley took a second to catch his breath. “I can’t. I have a meeting with a realtor in less than an hour to finalize some things on mom’s house. She didn’t want to come back. And then I’m on a plane tonight.”

“Where?” was mumbled against his skin.

“Prague. Grad school,” Charley said. Peter looked up, like he had no idea what Charley was talking about, face blank but for the lust clouding his eyes. “I told you about it in my last email, remember?” Which had, in Peter’s defense, been months ago.

“Blow off your meeting,” Peter growled, sliding a hand down between them to cup where Charley’s own erection was beginning to strain at his jeans.

Charley leaned his head back against the wall, looking towards the rafters. “I _can’t_.”

“Charley,” Peter said, his voice brooking no argument. “It’s been two years. Be _late_ to your meeting, or I’ll fuck you right here.”

 

* * *

 

They’d barely made it upstairs. They _hadn’t_ made it to the bed. He’d fucked Charley on his bedroom floor and it was fast, and rough, and perfect, and everything he remembered. Better than he remembered. Why had he ever encouraged this kid to move thousands of miles away? How could he be expected to let him go now?

Charley seemed to have forgotten about whatever he had to do this afternoon because he’d readily climbed into the bed with him to recuperate afterward, the two of them just talking like the old days.

 

 _—Which is what I said, ‘The Egyptian Book of the Dead is…’_

 _—Why didn’t we fly? Right, they frowned upon your shotgun…_

 _—Did you hear Amy’s moved to…_

 _—You still drink that stuff?_

 

“I have to go,” Charley eventually said.

“No, you don’t.” He stubbed out his cigarette and leaned over Charley, peppering small kisses along his chest, slowly trailing downward. By the time he’d nipped at his hip, Charley was half-hard again, so Peter took him into his mouth, loving the feeling of Charley’s cock growing against his tongue.

“It’s…” Charley breathed, “…a convincing argument you make.”

Peter chuckled. And then there weren’t any words for a while, just the wet sounds of his mouth sliding in rhythm, and Charley’s amazing little groans. He’d missed them. He missed everything about Charley, and Peter hated him just a little bit for that.

He pulled his mouth away. “God, I’ve _missed_ you,” he said, voicing his thoughts before he’d even realized it. Still it was out there, and he’d laid himself bare to the younger man. Again. Charley always had a way of making Peter so damned honest.

Charley smiled down out him, running a hand through his hair.

“Come to Prague with me,” he said, even though he surely knew what the answer would be.

“I can’t,” he mumbled, repeating Charley’s mantra from earlier, before dropping his gaze and resuming his task, redoubling his efforts.

Charley struggled to speak. “Take a… a… sabbatical.” His fingers tightened in Peter’s hair; he was getting close. “Call it research for the show. We’ll go to… Transylvania. It’s not that—” He squeaked on the last word as he came. When his hips fell back onto the bed, he finished the sentence. “—far.”

Crawling up his body, Peter laid a kiss on Charley’s pale shoulder. “I’m not leaving Vegas, kid.”

Charley nodded, understanding. “I’m not a kid anymore, Peter.”

“Charley,” Peter said, somehow feeling both content and disappointed all at once, “I’m not sure you ever were.”

 

FIN


End file.
